When Baby Boy (Reuben) was just over shy of being 16.5 years old, I had the brilliant (can you see me laughing) idea to go ahead and kick him out of the house because he was (A) eating everything I bought faster than I could unload it from the car and stash into a cabinet, (B) he was beginning to show a bit too much manliness around a house full of girls, two of which were only 13 and 12 years old, and (C) he found himself being late for school and football practice when he missed the bus and I couldn't take him to school. We had a bus driver at that time, who wasn't sure she wanted to actually drive kids to and from school; she would show up when she felt like it, sometimes on time, sometimes late, sometimes not at all. Of course, she was terminated, but that didn't help my son's football coach's opinion as to why he wasn't at early morning practice, or even 1st hour, which was required.
The easiest and probably best solution would have been to simply take Reuben to school on my way to work, but the real issue was, he needed to be at school by 7:00 a.m. for practice, and my girls were unable to be trusted to wake themselves, dress, eat, gather homework, bags, make themselves lunch, and head off down the road to school, even if the school was only three short blocks away. It would never have happened. I decided to rent an apartment for Reuben that was literally across the street from the school, maybe down a block, but just there, and he could wake up, roll out of bed, shower and run across the street (hopefully he too would dress first) and make it to school on time. I never EVER worried about whether or not Reuben would have enough to eat. That thought has never and will never enter my brain. The boy has been self-sufficient in that practice for literally his entire life. There have been times I've taken him to a pizza party of a friend and found him asking people at tables near by if they're going to eat the rest of their pizza. He's been a food whore since Day 1, and no one was safe from his abilities to make them look off to the side long enough for him to grab whatever it was on their plate that he felt was fair game. (Of course, at his age now, I'm hoping he doesn't do that to anyone other than myself or his wife, but at 16 the world was quite literally his plate to grab from.)
The little one bedroom apartment was upstairs, about 700 square feet if I remember, it was fully furnished with appliances and had free water and cable hook up. He would be responsible to pay his utilities, buy his own food, and get himself to and from school. How would he do that without a job you ask? Oh, there was a pizza joint just to the other side of the school and I can honestly say with bubbling pride in my soul, that my son, my Baby Boy began working at that pizza joint the day after he turned 16 and he remained on the job until he was over 17 years old, and felt it was necessary to change jobs. Reuben claimed that moving from Little Caesar's Pizza to Hooters was strictly for the increase in money - - why shouldn't I believe him? He's my son! I can also, honestly say with pride in my soul, that my son was never late for work when he worked at Hooters, and he was always willing to stay later than his shift. I'm just saying, what a dedicated worker, that boy! (Laughs)
I paid the rent for the apartment and he paid the bills. It was a win-win for everyone, and until the day he showed up at my door about eight months into it, claiming that he had had just about enough of his friends partying, leaving trash everywhere, and refusing to leave so he could sleep, it was going just fine until then. Reuben was asking to come back to live with us, swore he'd buy his own food if I would just help him get a car so he could make it to school and work on time. Wait, what? He was tired of the partying? Yes, that's what I said. I knew there would be parties, but I also knew my son, and knew he wouldn't allow anything that could get him kicked off the football team or fired from his job. He's normal, average, and basic, like any other over grown teen, but he was also smart enough to draw the lines and hold himself to it. He'd ended up calling the Warr Acres police a few too many times to have them force his friends and their friends out of his apartment at 2:00 a.m. so he could at least get a few hours sleep!
Just under and to the side of his place was a real live Army soldier woman named Ashley. She was 19, pretty, absolutely in great shape, and had a bit of authoritarian in her. Sometimes Reuben never had to call the police, he'd just go downstairs and ask Ashley to come up and kick people out! She was usually willing to do that; and he was usually willing to ask her to stay for a night cap when she did. I'm not sure if Ashley had much of an influence of the decision Reuben made to join the Army, but join he did. He and Ashley had an agreement, that if she turned 30 before she married they would marry each other. That actually nearly happened, but in the end Reuben found himself in Iraq when Ashley found her true love; they are still married, Reuben is married to Josie, and all is well on that front.
Looking back on it, I can see the absolute folly of my ways, and I know I would never recommend kicking your boy out of the house and paying for him to have his own place at the tender and ridiculous age of just over 16 years old, but without a father in the house to help with the wrangling, having three to situate was hard to handle in the mornings. Kicking one out of the nest was the only real solution, and that one baby bird happened to be the bigger of the three. It wasn't the smartest, brightest, even the most common sense thing to do, but he survived, the Warr Acres police knew him by name so that years into their "relationship" they often gave him a pass for speeding through their fair city, since he was so diligent about not partying with minors at his own place. They were quite impressed, to be honest. They even let me pay the $1500 he owed them on the day he was swearing into the U.S. Army, rather than issuing a warrant for his arrest. Sweet people! (again, laughing)
One down, and two to go. I had my oldest on his own for a while. He learned so much about doing his own laundry, preparing food, cleaning dishes, making beds, throwing out trash, getting to work and school on time with time to spare to steal his breakfast from unwitting freshmen who hadn't yet realized that Reuben's smile and bright green eyes are weapons of destruction - - he's not flirting ladies, he's taking your egg sandwich; and ... he's gone! He survived. They survived. We all survived.
Reuben Stringfellow and Ashley Delisle 2017
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